


The descent

by Level_Nightmare



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, F/M, Heavy Petting, M/M, Shotacon, Teenagers, Underage Masturbation, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Level_Nightmare/pseuds/Level_Nightmare
Summary: A year has passed since the end of hostilities between the great powers of Ivalice and the young emperor Larsa finds himself dealing with feelings and desires that he never imagined uncontrollable and terrifying. Losing control of his emotions seems to be an element of great destabilization for the sovereign: are his feelings morally acceptable? Are they dangerous? What's wrong with him? Maybe the blood of Solidor is really crossed by the genes of madness as many say? To find some answers or just a little understanding, Larsa takes advantage of a visit to Rabanastre to meet his close friend Penelo.
Relationships: Larsa Ferrinas Solidor/Judge Magister Zargabaath, Penelo/Larsa Ferrinas Solidor
Kudos: 2





	The descent

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader, as always I apologize for my limping English and for the errors that you will surely find scattered throughout this story. Unfortunately, English is not my first language so I ask you to be patient. In this story you will find a burning story of passion and feeling between people of very different ages. So I ask you to remember that it is a fictional work and that it has nothing to do with reality. Please, if you don't like stories where there is a big age gap and teenagers and pre-teenagers are involved, this story is not for you! <3

Heat.  
The first thing he realized when he got off the airship deck was the heat, the sun of Rabanastre, an immense star of liquid gold that seems to swallow the whole sky. Under the light and colorful clothes, Larsa feels the skin covered with a damp and annoying wet film, wonders how the soldiers and, above all, his companions, support this temperature with their armor on.  
The young emperor raises a hand to shield himself from the sun and looks sideways, as far as possible, at the two figures who accompany him, feeling that sense of warmth increase, making him feel inadequate and dirty.  
Perhaps seizing the sovereign's discomfort, Zargabaath comes forward to put his hand behind the boy's shoulders and push him slightly forward, casting the much-desired shadow on his face while Basch after a nod with the other Judge, precedes both towards the covered area of the mooring, arranging the start of Larsas' official visit.  
The emperor feels a new type of heat, the one released by the armor of the Judge Magister, as if the sun itself was imprisoned inside that dark and old metal.  
He doesn't know, he can't know, but he thinks under the helmet Zargabaath is smiling. A smile just mentioned, polite, a smile that only raises the corner of his mouth. He has looked at him too many times not to know him, not to have studied his way of moving a thousand and one times, that slight inclination of his head when he listens or reasons.  
Going through the official stages of his visit is the most tedious part and he is surprised to think so. He mortifies by giving himself to the spoiled boy, so different from the solid, little ruler that he seemed ready to become. Hard with himself more than with the others, he welcomes with a sigh the visit to the splendid Ashe's garden where the sovereign, finally stripped of the most ceremonial robes, can embrace her young friend.  
"You grew up!" the sovereign murmurs to him, stroking his shoulders covered with colored silk. She, wearing a simple dress with a deep back neckline, ivory white, seems perfectly at ease among the beautiful desert flowers, the shaggy thorny plants and the small, harmless insects that live in that uncontaminated floral world.  
"Just a couple of centimeters, actually." Larsa confesses in return, looking down. He loves Ashe well and admires her enormously for the courage and dedication with which she fought her battle but is Penelo he needs and his gaze often runs to his friend, stops a few steps back as the formality wants, mirror the position held by Zargabaath behind him.  
Ashe guides the boy among the beautiful flowers, among the fresh and perfumed shadows of that oasis that shines like a precious gem nestled above the layers of the chaotic Rabanastre and while she tells him mostly worldly facts, because they still cannot allow themselves to meet more intimate and friendly that both want.  
Larsa feels the delicate contact with Penelo's fingers, the girl is at his side and smiles at him and he, in that smile, sees unconditional trust, sees love, sweetness: everything he is convinced he has sought in his diplomatic visit. He squeezes her fingers transmitting all the need he has to be alone with her, the only soul who seems to be able to understand him.  
"I missed you, Larsa. Being so far away is not easy even with the airships available." the girl speaks softly and gently slides her arm to hook that of the emperor, pressing her soft side against him.  
"It's true that distance builds barriers when people don't." sadly replies the boy, slightly bowing his head towards his friend. Then he feels it again, that strong, gloved hand brushing his back. Just for a moment, before Judge Magister passes him to join the Queen of Dalmasca by offering her his arm and catching the topic he is talking about. Ashe seems hesitant for a few seconds but her hand rests on the Judge's arm after, out of the corner of her eye, he has noticed the intimate closeness between Larsa and Penelo.  
There was no need for words or directives: Ashe and Zargabaath, together, lengthened their step by continuing to talk about state affairs while the two kids were left behind, soon alone, free to release the tensions and the small embarrassments that the distance placed between them, free to sit on an ornamental trunk and shake hands with each other, resting their foreheads, identical smiles of love and complicity on their face.  
"I missed you." she repeats placing her fresh hands on the other's heated face, her soft breast pressed into her arms and her shapely thighs tight in the shorts of the suit. Her mouth approaches that of the boy who, shyly, meets her in that first, unforgettable, useless kiss. Penelo's tongue is expert and flickers between his lips in search of his while Larsa's body seems to react to that stimulation supporting the warmth he has been carrying for weeks when something unknown seems to have woken up inside him.  
"Also I missed you." he says between one kiss and the next, just moving to lean his knee against hers. His hands rest on the girl's shoulders as she sighs against his mouth, maliciously licking his lips, the tip of his nose. Larsa hints at a shy smile as he feels his small weenie stretched under the light fabric of his pants, hard, wet on the tip, ready to splash his cum into the panties that seem so damned tight and annoying. But while he flirts with her, he listens to the noises of the garden, the sounds produced by small insects, the chirping of crickets in the evening, the gentle rustling of leaves and branches in the still warm air coming from the desert.  
Hear the deep voice of Judge Magister and the loudest voice of Queen Ashe. Listen. He imagines him, sees him with the eyes of the mind: tall, majestic, with dark armor and a softly draped cloak from his broad shoulders. He knows that he has not yet taken off his helmet and that he will do it only with him, when they have reached their quarters. He knows that under his helmet his face will be tired but always beautiful, his soft lips posed in that constantly melancholy expression, that of a man who has stained himself with unspeakable sins and is trying to live with it.  
Larsa sighs moving his face away from Penelo's and backing away as she tries to reach him again, bringing his hands to her breast with an amused smile.  
"Squeeze, caress me." she offers him sweetly but he, after lingering on those soft hemispheres fascinated by the tension he feels growing under his fingertips, the nipples that become turgid and draw their delicious shape on the fabric, withdraws.  
"Forgive me. I wasted everything. I thought it was what I wanted but ..." it's the boy's turn, this time, to tighten his thighs and look down at the embarrassing erection now under the eyes of his young friend. She shakes her head but before falling back, she slips a hand right there, squeezing that baby weenie in her hand and massaging it slowly through the clothes.  
"Can I continue...?" she asks in a low voice "... you don't know how much I want to get you wet, Larsa. It's so small and hard!" she seems delighted by the consideration and he, unable to stop her, only manages to weakly squeeze her wrist, moaning against her shoulder, imagining to hold him a bigger, masculine, expert hand. A killer hand that can also be so kind and warm.  
The girl looks around furtively continuing to masturbate the young sovereign, then spreads her thighs to show him her tight pussy in her shorts, swollen and so moist as to have darkened the fabric in the middle. The garment is so tight that it seems painted on her and her intimate lips seem so full and eager, a vision that even Larsa, with his doubts and dilemmas, cannot ignore.  
"Rubbing. Quick." Penelo whispers accomplice, guiding the boy's hand on the pussy burnt with desire, helping him to slide his fingers into the crack above the tissue, to find the big clitoris obscenely erect to start pinching, rubbing it, driving her crazy.  
Amazed Larsa looks down seeing that little protuberance stretch the sodden fabric, lingering with his fingers.  
"Does it look like a small ... penis?" he asks in a low voice, ashamed of his own reverie but she, amused, nods pushing the pelvis towards his hand.  
"It's huge, isn't it? It's practically as big as your wee wee." she chuckles between panting, moving her hand faster on the boy's little cock and, after a new look around, sliding a breast out of the tight corset of the onesie: white skin, a swollen and turgid nipple. "Who are you thinking about?" she asks him though, reminding him of how acute Rabanastre's little girl was. Not "what". But "who".  
"To him." Larsa says it without hesitation. Him. The confession comes out as a painful sob while with his chin he hints at the plants that separate them from Ashe and the Judge, engaged in a distant, suffused, political conversation.  
"Ah, you are not alone." Penelo replies, gently squeezing his cock between her fingers, making him squeak with surprise and pleasure. "Ashe had her pussy on fire when she learned that he would accompany you too, she feared he would stay in Archades for state affairs." the girl laughs in a low voice and approaches Larsa to whisper in his ear "... maybe she's already on her knees with his cock in the mouth. Let's hear if she stops talking?". As Larsa can imagine he now imagines her with lucid hardness: beautiful and haughty, the small elegant breast pressed against Zargabaath armored arm, the soaked panties tucked in the middle of the reddened pussy under that refined dress that rustles around each step. Noble, elegant, impeccable Ashelia who talks about politics and foreign affairs but who dreams of kneeling in front of the foreign invader to swallow his cock until suffocating.  
Penelo chuckles seeing the expression on Larsa's little face playfully pinching her nipple to invite him to taste it "... so you prefer him to me? I confess that I had imagined it. It was the way you looked at him. How you look at him."  
He tries to bend over the girl's blossoming breast, lingers, kisses it doubtfully but withdraws not feeling that overwhelming desire that instead her hand is managing to give him.  
"He ... he ..." he sighs, panting in a low voice, terrified by the idea of being heard, intimately intrigued by the possibility of being surprised thus with the weenie ready to spray and the face reddened with pleasure, in front of him. What if it happens? He would not stop: he would be there with his legs open to ejaculate without shame, begging him to understand, to love him now and forever as only a boy of his age would be able to do.  
"Larsa, yes, I'm squirting, my pussy is on fire!" Penelo hisses, clinging to his side. Both on the edge of pleasure, the two kids come almost together, he showering his already decidedly wet panties, she spraying a stream of transparent liquid through the fabric of the shorts. Intoxicated by pleasure, they huddle to kiss each other for a long time, gently, feeling the palpitations of pleasure go out a little at a time.  
"Judge Zargabaath was explaining to me some peculiarities of Nabreus in relation to the imperial airships: fascinating. I thought ..." Queen Ashe's voice to surprise them after a few moments, just long enough for the two kids to tidy up a minimum, both red in face, tight thighs and guilty expression.  
Ashe, beautiful in her ivory-colored dress, still elegantly on the Judge's arm, shows a sympathetic smile towards the two teenagers and only then separates from her companion to join them.  
"Did you chat ...?" she asks in a soft voice, her wise and calm eyes saying more than many words. She remains slightly bent towards them, confident that the Judge behind her will not be able to ignore the well-designed shape of her ass and the string embellished with gold rings that sinks between her buttocks, which can be guessed at the beginning of the wide neckline that reaches the bottom of the back. The kids are not the only ones who have succumbed to the hot spirits: even Queen Ashe has felt damned hot since the moment Judge Magister announced his presence.  
With a careless gesture, she lightly adjusts the dress on her breast, turning towards him with a smile, quietly and gather her hands in front of her restless womb.  
Zargabaath remains where he is and Larsa again senses his expression, a mixture of surprise and perplexity towards a situation that he must not have been able to fully understand. Maybe even a pinch of concern. The little emperor then stands up and reaches Judge Magister, stopping near the same side against which Ashe must have rubbed while he and Penelo flirted.  
"I think I really got too much sun this afternoon. Archadia is extraordinarily rainy in this period. Do we want to update ourselves for dinner?" Larsa's voice seems to have returned to the same as always, as well as his self-control, his mastery of the situation in which he finds himself. His bright blue eyes rest on Penelo, smiling and enigmatic like a small street cat, then on Ashe, the unattainable and statuesque beauty of Dalmasca.  
"We will not fail to make ourselves beautiful." Penelo replies, removing Ashe from the hindrance of formality: the witticisms have never been the workhorse of the young sovereign. Penelo and Larsa have the opportunity to exchange a long look, aware of the smell of sex, of the desire that hovers between them, of the sexual tension that seems to be radiated by Queen Ashe and discharged in waves on the armor of the Magister, against his inscrutable helmet.  
"See you later then. Majesty. Thank you for this lovely visit. Your garden is the mirror of your kingdom." the Judge's voice sounds metallic from under the helmet but cannot miss inside that note of melancholy sweetness which is completely unique, impossible to forget.  
Larsa welcomes his speech with extreme relief, removed from the embarrassment of saying goodbye now that he feels the sperm soaking his panties and would just like to take refuge in his quarters to give in to the darker fantasies that have the man at his side as protagonists.  
The two girls remain alone a few moments later, their eyes on the figures of the little emperor and his guardian who move away. Penelo resting her hands on the trunk of the tree on which she is sitting, spread her legs to show her friend the result of that explosive orgasm that still sends pleasure discharges from her pussy to the rest of the body. The queen, with an accomplice smile, stops in front of her and lifting her dress, shows her the wet underwear, buried in her hairy and dripping pussy.  
"I wish he would make me pregnant." Ashe murmurs, unstitching her panties from the sticky and odorous pussy and offering it to Penelo who, without hesitation, begins to lick it avidly, resuming to rub her own. "I would like to be naked every day of my life, chained on his airship, covered by his hot cum to churn out brats one after the other." the queen sighs by pressing her hands on her friend's blond head to invite her to stick her tongue inside, drowning her between her swollen and dripping lips, sweeping her mouth with the regal look that only a sovereign can have. And Penelo doesn't really need to say more. Licking the pussy of her queen and friend can only be an excellent background to what could still happen.


End file.
